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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702731">#MadmanPassionLover</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cto10121/pseuds/cto10121'>cto10121</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Universe - Modern Era, Comedy, F/M, Humor, Modern Era, also benvolio and mercutio cameos, gay simping, is that how the youths say it?, smartphones internet you name it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cto10121/pseuds/cto10121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Word is on the street (and the worldwide Web), and it's all Sergio's fault. Or: How Verona found out about Romeo and Juliette. Modern AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>#MadmanPassionLover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <strong>#MadmanPassionLover</strong>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Beneath the shade of café umbrella at Vincentio’s, at high noon. Sergio, Montague, scrolled through his phone as usual, only occasionally chuckling at hoary Capulet memes (still gold) and staring every so often at the back entrance. Typical. Antoinetta was late, the whore, which meant that Sergio wouldn’t be able to snap candid photos of her meeting another boy that was certainly not her boyfriend. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It wasn’t as if Sergio liked dirty subterfuge like this (okay, maybe he did enjoy it, a little), but ever since he uploaded a picture of Carlotta and Orsina fighting over Petruchio and tagged it with #MenageaRawr a year ago, his gossip blog <em>You’re In Verona</em> had only gotten bigger in scope and influence. Now it had twenty thousand followers and demanded constant feed, a monster to nourish and control and tame. His burden was great indeed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fortunately, Verona was a hotbed for juicy, celebrity-style gossip, with enough material for his blog to run for ages. Their crowd was a free one, which meant soap-opera levels of treacheries, backstabbing, infidelities—even outright fights were common. And that was just on the Montague side. Once he got the clout and resources to do some sleuthing on the Capulet side, he had material that lasted for months. (No spoilers, but let’s just say he owed a great deal to Lady Capulet). That morning he had it on good authority that Antoinetta was seeing a Capulet servant on the side. Low-hanging fruit, since servants did not really register in the feud meter—actually in some ways lying with a servant may even be an act of aggression—but it was a slow news day and there was that hunger for Internet content beyond lame puns and memes. What he didn’t expect was that he would end up the center of an all-out war. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>For on that fateful noon, the café traffic sluggish and the streets nigh empty what with the afternoon <em>sessa</em>, silently cursing Antoinetta, he happened to look over beyond the café at the backcourt of the old church. The double doors, shockingly, were opened, and there, clear as day, stood a familiar figure. He was a little far away, bur there was no confusing his tall, dark figure, that silky hair billowing, looking down the deserted street as if waiting for someone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Romeo, he thought, straightening up, stomach swooping. The heir of Montague, the late Montague’s son. Visiting Friar Lawrence, no doubt, as he often spoke with him, though this was a strange hour. He hadn’t seen him since this morning, when he waved off Benvolio and Mercutio. Sinfully delicious as always—oh, that stupid grammar school crush, will he never get over it? One Rose was enough for this whole town, thank you very much. He was turning into such a cliché. (Granted, he did text Sabrina a picture of him on one side and a chocolate mousse cake on the other with the caption <em>what’s the difference???</em> but that was only once and clearly as a joke. He got a <em>3 hail marys and 1 our father </em>for his efforts). Needless to say, he devoted a whole tag to him, #MadmanPassionLover (Mercutio truly had the best names for everything).</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Almost as if he had heard him, Romeo turned his head at a sharp profile, a desert-like wind billowing through his silky locks, and with a flash of insight Sergio finally realized what was bothering him, tugging at his consciousness. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Romeo hated waiting. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That was why he always disappeared, why his hapless cousin-friend was perpetually sending out <em>anyone know where romeo is??? </em>group chat texts. He could never stay in one place for too long. He was never at rest, always moving—that was what his needy younger self had liked about him most, after all. So what was with this preternatural stillness? Not only that, but his expression, like the one people had when praying in church. Restful, but also in longing expectation, with more than a hint of anxiety. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But just as he was mulling this over and maybe taking a picture of this windswept perfection and perhaps not for his blog, (sue him) the impassive expression broke, like a sun at the rise of dawn. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Along the path the girl had arrived, panting slightly, hooded, petite. Her expression was a twin of his, radiant and blazing like a campfire. They ran together and embraced fiercely, the girl even lifted a little, feet dangling. In their passion, her hood fell open to reveal a fair head, a beacon in the noon light. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Quick turnaround, even for Romeo, he thought with a mental head shake, all thoughts of Antoinetta departing. And here he thought the Rose debacle would never die. But good choice, this one. Lovely in a pure way. Then again, Romeo did always have a good eye, and his taste was always consistently decent, not like Mercutio, whose range went from trashy to trashier, or Benvolio, who really had the oddest thing for redheads. Even Rose, that walking disaster, had been good. And now this buttercup. Maybe—clumsily tapping his camera app—he could get a good angle from his position. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They separated much quicker than he expected, flushed, gazing at each other in a way that made Sergio pause, uncomfortable, as if intruding on a private moment. Then the girl started, glancing quickly around. She grasped his arm, sobering. There was a brief exchange. They hastened up the dais steps, their arms around each other, and they disappeared quickly through the doors. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Blast it. Only four pictures, and not one a full frontal, and the zoom didn’t help. But it did show the girl was a petite blonde. Who was she? Send it Sabrina, see if she knew.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>R just went in the church with a new honey. know who she is????</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sabrina took a while to reply. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>not sure. def not our crowd. </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>wait what r u doing stalking chocolate mousse??? u dumb bitch ur on a diet. practice self-care </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Oh har har.<em> I was tailing antoinetta when i saw him calm down lol. u sure u don’t know her?</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>A longer pause.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>yeah, it’s a blank. can you get a better picture?</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That was no longer possible. <em>i’ll just post it up and ask around then</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>don’t see why not, </em>she replied. <em>u have posted worse before. <br/>
<br/>
</em></p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Well, the rest was history, and as they say, hindsight is 20/20. </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Chocolate mousse/summer buttercup, </em>he wrote on his blog. <em>Yeah, I ship it. Am missing a name, though. Anyone? #MadmanPassionLover #MysteryGirl</em> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In less than half an hour his phone was inundated with notifications, his post blowing up. At first it was the regular crowd, his followers, some earnestly guessing at Romeo’s mystery girl and some not even bothering. (<em>Mercutio with dyed hair</em> was his personal favorite). It didn’t take long before one troll hit the bullseye. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>It could be a Capulet. Those bitches love pink lol nvm</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>By the end of the second hour the commenter received over fifty replies, was screenshot, and identified as true by furious Capulets. But the real war began when one commentator, clearly by a snarky Montague (Balthazar from the looks of the username), posted the following. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>You guys r so racist lol. Capulets are people too /s</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>By that time he had deleted his own post and struggling, with growing panic, to do damage control with a disclaimer. Out of the near three hundred comments and replies, he had gotten exactly one like on his post, from one LM; the picture was that of a long-haired brunette in white (an anime reference?). He or she had made only one comment: a smiley emoji and nothing else. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As gleeful #CapuletsArePeopleToo and #CapuletLivesMatter trended on Verona Twitter, and Capulet abuse and slurs came pouring in, their own ominous #It’stheDay tag flooding with posts, he stared at the frantic text from Sabrina, too little, too late. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>TAKE IT DOWN TAKE IT DOWN NOW </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>THATS JULIETTE CAPULET DAUGHTER OF CAPULET</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>FUCK </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The full hour had not been complete when, amid the swirling chaos, his phone vibrated. Mercutio had called him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No blog is worth a town-wide war. What the fuck<em>, </em>Sergio?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So it was going to be one of <em>those</em> days. He went on the defensive. “I was trying to get the scoop on Antoinetta. Your friend was there, in broad daylight, feeling up his latest.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And so of course the obvious thing to do was to take a picture of it for your gossip blog.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s called being a professional.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s called being a dumbass bitch. You didn’t think to text me first or Benvolio?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“For what? A picture of him and his latest fling?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>To his surprise, Mercutio laughed darkly. “Oh, I <em>wish</em>. Pray to fucking God this is some sex thing, Sergio.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All right, he was officially unnerved. Mercutio was never this serious. “I swear, the last thing in my mind was that your homeboy would seduce the daughter of freakin’ Capulet!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Choked sounds erupted. “<em>Homeboy</em>—”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Look, I’m just the messenger. You have beef, take it up with the guy who thought it a great idea to elope with a Capulet.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was a moment of terrible silence. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Elope?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Oh, shit. “Er. Well. They did go into the church. After I took the photo. So I assumed they were, you know. I mean, it’d be a pretty kinky place to get it on too, but...” He was rambling and there was breathing on the line. “Mercutio?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“‘Cutio. Calm down. Give it here.” It was Benvolio’s voice, slightly distant. Finally he heard it, loud and clear at his ear. “Sergio, ‘Volio here. Not to be dramatic, but this is bad.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Finally he slumped in defeat. “I know. I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey, it’s better we knew now than later. We’re trying to find him.” <em>Again</em>, his weary tone implied. “Val saw him near Lucio’s, we’re heading there. Hopefully clear this whole mess up.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He thought on that girl, their too-tight embrace, the bubble of nervous laughter that filled him when seeing it. “How did this happen, Benvolio?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, er, well, they met last night at the ball—”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, not that.” He figured that out already. “I meant...<em>how</em>?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Granted, it wasn’t the easiest of questions to answer, and so Benvolio said nothing for several moments. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s not that Romeo doesn’t think,” he said, almost apropos to nothing. “It’s that he doesn’t care. You know? And maybe not even in a bad way—”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fuck yes, in a bad way.” Mercutio, audibly growly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“—Okay, fine, yes in a bad way. But mostly...I think he just cares for something he thinks is far greater.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And as the line went dead, he finally realized what he, normal, ordinary Sergio, had gotten into. There were some things one could not prepare for, and leaking a photo of your schoolboy crush with his crush/true love right getting secretly married was one of them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(But at least he could finally shake off his crush now. Seriously, Romeo? Choosing love over a pointless family feud that has left countless dead and for reasons no one living remembers? Talk about warped priorities. Never mind, bullet dodged.) </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick one-shot, something light for once. Got this idea while watching the Toho RetJ and spending half the time just laughing at the phones and the very idea of a Veronian Internet. Hence this toy. Took me awhile for it to take fruition, but I'm bored and am itching for some practice. Original French cast, though, because that is the version I know best (yes, Sergio and Sabrina are from there) and conveniently they never do explain exactly how the rumor got started in the first place (the Hungarian does have the two Capulet servants discovering Romeo, but of course that wouldn't work in this scenario). Also, #CapuletsArePeopleToo is an unintentional gem of the London production, now put to much better context. Reviews, kudos, etc. are all appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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